Eye for an Eye
by zzz1266
Summary: Conlan Delaney has pissed off almost everyone in the state with various mob syndicates screaming for his blood. His incompetence eventually leads to his wasted brother, two mechanics & Carl Johnson thrown into his mess. A tale of violence cars & revenge
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** **Basically something I came up with after three days of writing. Set in San Andreas, lots of O.C's but also game characters. Give it a shot...R&R**

Gunfire awakened the more idle residents of Willowfield. A grisly cocktail of unwholesome sounds replaced the usual chorus of birdsong: rattling machinegun fire accompanied by the clinking and clunking of falling shells. Now and again it would stop, only to be punctuated by the thrum of pistols or flurry of clicks as fumbling hands thrust metal into machine and conducted another verse of hot lead into the air- eventually leading to a horrific, thumping crescendo of tearing flesh and noxious groans.

Ryan paused shaving and frowned. Carefully placing the razor down, he leaned over and shut the bathroom window, stifling any chance of a refreshing breeze into the humid room. He had always seen his mother follow this procedure when the neighbourhood got 'disturbed': shut the windows and sit tight. He calmly continued to run the blade over his cheek and a few minutes later finished with a splash of aftershave. He glared at his reflection in the mirror and mentally criticized it.

'I need a fucking hair cut,' he muttered, flicking his dark brown hair and running a hand through it.

He wandered into the kitchen, picked up a white phone and punched some numbers into the keypad.

'Its Ryan….I'm gonna be late,' he murmured, staring up at the ceiling, shutting his eyes as the sound of a baby crying resounded through the apartment-making anybody, apart from adoring mothers, want to tear their hair out.

'That all I get….no explanation?' replied a sleezy voice, followed by the squelching and chomping of tobacco.

'Turn on the radio….see you soon Eddie'. He hung up. Eddie Barker could fire Ryan on a whim if he wished, but unfortunately had a poor grasp of what it meant to be a boss. However, Ryan and the rest gave him the respect he deserved, after all he was the best mechanic Los Santos had to offer (he regularly made the point of drumming that title into their heads on every working day) Eddie wasn't a bad man either, married with two children in a semi-detached house in Verona Beach. Not a bad man at all. Ryan changed into a tired pair of blue overalls, lit a cigarette, settled back into an armchair and waited for the sirens.

* * *

Delaney: a household name in San Andreas, the title behind _Pay N Spray_,_ Delaney Driving School_ and _Transfender. _The well known, but not uttered, _Bomb Shop_ and the cancerous import and export businesses that infected San Andreas' ports: go out of your way to bad mouth these enterprises and one of Delaney's mob links will quickly silence you. The well used '_I'll scratch your back if you scratch mine' _policy, after all, the state was drowning in pestilence that the high and wide variety of crime syndicates produced. All of these organisations benefited from Delaney Garages, whether it be wheels enhanced by explosives, stealing a Banshee and driving it to the harbour to make a little extra cash, or simply pulling up into a garage and remerging with a new colour scheme: everyone is happy. Though Owen Delaney was currently tying a rope around his 70 year old neck and preparing take a short step off the edge of a desk. 

A few floors down from this act of god, the young man who was about to become an orphan was marching down the corridors on the second floor of HQ with a cell phone firmly attached to his ear and a cigarette slipping out of his lips. A small, lean, grey suited woman was trying to keep up with him.

'Well I'm telling you stupid bastard the driver probably hit a speed bump to quick….the bombs are delicate…no I'm not offending your mother…no…oh fuckin' chink'. He threw the phone behind him, took a drag from the cigarette, ran a hand through a black matt of firmly gelled hair and massaged his temples.

'O.K Audrey, send a written response to Mr. Fried Rice on our car-bomb polices…' he said as the assistant jotted a jumble of words on her clipboard.

'Yes sir…what about the Thais?'

'What about them?'

'You told them, in response to their service complaints, '_to go and shove their chopsticks up their asses,_' she replied timidly, brushing off some ash that had trickled onto his pinstripe suit.

'Uhhh…fuckin' hell I don't know…send them a gift package or something…'

'Yes Mr Delaney…' she mumbled, doubling back to retrieve the cell that had found its way into a potted plant. She did feel a certain extent of sympathy for her boss: Conlan Delaney. He single-handedly held together Delaney Autos while his father slowly fell into alcoholism and his brother could usually be found lying in the gutter with a syringe. Yet, unfortunately Conlan was still a bit of bastard.

* * *

Head Garage was another Delaney establishment and its employees were a tightly knit group as Ryan had found out on his first day several months ago. There was Eddie: head mechanic on 20 cigarettes a day and pushing the boundaries of obesity. 'Tics' was a sufferer of Tourette's syndrome with a tendency to sniff every second and include the words 'Fuckin' A' in every sentence. Alex Loei gave the garage a touch of feminism but much to her annoyance was referred to as 'one of the guys'. Ryan joined the group after a guy named Harvey Castello had ironically been hit by a car. It was a small step up from his apprentice job in a shabby garage in Playa Del Seville where he only had a fat slob and a dog for company. Unfortunately the garage suffered from an arson attack in last years riots and Ryan had to find himself a new job. 

Half an hour after battling his way out his street, which was now crawling with police and medics, Ryan entered the dingy office in Downtown Los Santos; work.

'Mornin' Ryan,' Alex muttered, slumped in a chair and staring fixatedly at a clipboard with a mug of coffee in one hand. He mumbled something in return and sunk into a chair.

'So what I got today?'

'Well…a Remington with a transmission problem and a Feltzer that needs servicing'.

'Right…' he mumbled, yawning loudly and stretching his legs and arms.

The sound similar to a forced cough implied that Tics was about to emerge.

'Hey…Ryan…fuckin' a man, I heard that Willowfield was interrupted this mornin'…shit man I mean who was it this time? What were they using? Didja see anyone get shot?' spluttered Ticks in a series of unsettled coughs. Ryan rolled his eyes: ever since last years riots Ticks or 'Jonathan Mills' had developed an unhealthy obsession with gang related crime.

'Ahh I don't give a shit… hell man, go do your frickin job,' sniggered Ryan throwing a rolled up newspaper at his skinny frame. Tics ambled off mumbling something inaudible. His presence was quickly replaced by Eddie's, who was fully occupied with scratching his backside and smoking a cigarette.

'See you got out your house alive…' he said.

'Yeah…don't sound too happy…'

'Go haul your ass to that Feltzer before I fire your sorry butt,' he replied.

'Yeah yeah...' Ryan heaved himself up, picked up the keys to the Feltzer and pocketed them. He was about to make his way into the main but the thundering sound of bullets and the thump of a shot gun suddenly erupted.

'WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?' bellowed Eddie. The gunfire continued a few more seconds.

Alex and Ryan shot horrified looks at the door, where the sound was coming from, leading to the main garage and glanced at each other; mentally saying 'you first'.

Alex pulled a draw open and pulled out a Glock 26 and pocketed it inside her overalls.

'Jesus Christ...' said Eddie in disbelief.

'Where'd you get that?' said Ryan, raising an eyebrow.

'Dead cop in the riots,' she said casually. Eddie's eyes widened: he had issues with female dominance. Seconds past, neither Eddie nor Alex were showing any signs of moving.

'O.K ladies…I'll go first,' said Ryan. He opened the door into the large room, which looked like an ordinary, everyday _automobile repair shop_: tools, tyres, a car, although the five black suited men brandishing an assortment of pump action shotguns and SMG's suggested otherwise.

'Fuck me…' muttered Ryan, stumbling back. A squeak from below caught his attention: Tics was lying face down on the floor where a shiny black shoe was ensuring he continued kissing concrete. Ryan stared at Tics captor. He was definitely of oriental descent: Chinese, Japanese?

'Hansup!' said one of them with short black hair and sunglasses. All five looked like clones: black hair and shades, apart from one who was entirely bald. He heard the footsteps and gasps of Alex and Eddie behind him.

'HANSUP!' another screamed.

'What?' squawked Eddie.

'Shut the fuck up Ed!' hissed Alex, holding her arms up and signalling that he should do the same.

'Yu Deyaney…no?'

'Uhh….' began Ryan, pretending he knew what they were talking about. From behind him Alex began to speak, but not in English. In a language he had never heard before. The men seemed to understand and shot something back in the same dialect. Ryan dared to look behind and saw Eddie looking at Alex like she had suddenly sprouted tentacles.

'What did you say to them!?' Eddie spat.

'Shutup!'she replied, her face strained in concentration. Ignoring her command Eddie continued.

'Fuking hell Alex, who are they and WHAT THE FUCK ARE THEY DOING IN MY GARAGE?!'

One of the men fired a shot into the ceiling. Everyone jumped as plaster and dust sprinkled onto the floor.

She sighed and shot a filthy glare at him.

'There Thais, I think someone at HQ really pissed them off… it looks like were hostages…' she murmured out of the corner of her mouth.

'Shit…I always thought you were a chink,' he muttered back. There was more exchange in Thai.

'Okay…they want us to sit down and keep still…if we do anything that guy will kill us' she said, ignoring Eddie's back comment. She nodded at a burly looking man grasping a sawn off shotgun. Ryan heard Eddie gulp

'Ask them if we can smoke Alex,' said Ryan, his hands itching to grab the packet of Redwoods in his breast pocket. She mumbled something and the men looked at each other and nodded. It seemed they possessed a hint of human compassion. Ryan settled down next to Alex and took a long drag of the cigarette only to have it stolen by Alex who appeared to need it more. Tics was released from the foot that had held him and crawled over to them, shaking and coughing uncontrollably.

'Fuckin' a man…' he muttered.

'Fuckin' a…' repeated Ryan, lighting another cigarette and staring at the ceiling.

* * *

Several miles away, in a dingy corner of East Los Santos lay, sprawled out on the sidewalk, 20 year old Bradigan Delaney: vomit all over his cheap, red Hawaiian shirt and smeared in his short black hair. 

'Fuck me Brad that was a heavy night,' groaned a lump next to him.

'Where the fuck are we Roy? Jesus…what the hell was in that dope?' replied Brad trying to tell where his feet were in relation to his body.

'You got your cell? Call a freaking Taxi'

'Yeah…. Shit shit shit!' yelled Brad, slapping his pockets.

'What man? shut up your hurting my head!'

'My fucking wallet and cell have been nicked!'

'Hahah…I bet it was that Michelle…man were screwed…' sniggered Roy.

'Fuckin' bitch! You got any frickin' money dude?'

'Oh yeah…' Roy grabbed a scrunch of notes from his pockets. A few painstaking minutes later they both managed to stand up.

'Wahey man!' cried Roy, wobbling slightly.

'Mornin' ese,' came a voice from behind. A man with beige pants and a white tank top came into view, followed by three others in similar attire.

'Jeesus _eseey_…why you wearin' a balaclava?' stuttered Roy, his vision still extremely blurry.

'ARGHH!' yelled Brad, as a crowbar came into contact with his head. He slumped to the ground. One man in blue pants and a white shirt picked him up and slung him over his shoulder.

'What shall we do with this bendico?' said one in a thick Hispanic accent, pointing to Roy.

'Whatever the hell you want ese….'

Roy took a few steps back as two of the Mexicans stepped towards him.

'Ahh…fuck….hey look man I got money take it… take it!' he spluttered, throwing the notes at them.

'Thanks ese…' one of them sneered. It didn't stop them though, from lobbing a crow bar into his stomach and leaving him for dead on the side walk.

* * *

R&R- like all writers I thrive off them ;-) 


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N Many thanks to reviewers and people who took the time to read my story…not much else to say but enjoy!**

* * *

Conlan looked out of the window, his eyes resting on a black body bag. He had paced up and down his office chain-smoking for the last half hour. He wasn't really surprised that his dad had done it- the fat bastard had fallen apart since his wife had died and his son had chosen to indulge in the business of alcohol instead of cars. However, Conlan was more concerned about the business and the press interviews he had to do. Fuck. There was a _funeral_ to sort out. 

'Mama fucking Mia…' he whispered, loosening his tie. Two quiet knocks at the door indicated that Audrey was about to interrupt his silence.

'Come in,' he muttered. Audrey stepped silently through the door.

'Umm….Mr Delaney…there is someone on the phone demanding to speak with you'

'Oh fantastic…'

He stubbed his cigarette out, wandered over to his desk and picked up the phone.

'Hello?' he said irritably.

'Hi there Mr Delaney…its Alex Loei from head garage over in Downtown, it appears we have a situation here, a couple of Thais are claiming that you have screwed them over and are demanding half a million dollars,' she said, in an almost bored tone.

'What? There not getting any fucking money….who the fuck are you anyway?'

'Alex Loei, head garage….look the Thais are pissed, their holding me and three others hostage- their gonna blow our brains out if you don't pay up…if you call the police they'll kill us'.

'Half a million?' spluttered Conlan 'Ohhh Jesus….O.K, hang in there…uhhh I'll be in touch'. He slammed the phone down, and wiped the sweat from his brow.

'Are you O.K Mr Delaney?' said Audrey, peering at him through her tiny spectacles. Conlan stared at her in horror.

'Has this company got half a million dollars?' he gasped.

'Umm, well I'll have to check sir…Is everything O.K?' she said, surprised to see her normally cool composed boss turn into a shaking wreck.

Conlan collapsed into a chair, reached into his pocket and pulled out a hip flask.

'Just…see how much money I have,' he said, taking a large swig. The door suddenly swung open and black suited man, looking extremely flustered, barged in.

'What do you want Fritz?' spat Conlan. Fritz pulled out a white handkerchief and wiped his brow, marked with liver spots.

'Well, umm… ahem, Sir,' he gulped, 'your brother, Master Delaney has been…'

'Master?! Where not in the fucking 19th centaury Fritz!'

Fritz shot him a look of pure evil and continued.

'_Mr _Delaney has been, well… kidnapped'

'WHAT?!' yelled Conlan, spraying strong smelling gin all over his desk.

'Well we got a call saying, they sounded like Mexicans, that they have Bradigan Delaney and they'll get in touch soon…it appears Sir that their going to ask for a ransom…Sir, are you alright?' Fritz cast a worried stare at Conlan who sat frozen, the cigarette dropping from his lips.

'What the fuck was in everyone's coffee this morning?' murmured Conlan. 'Why the hell is this happening to me?' He stood up shakily.

'MAYBE BECAUSE YOU FUCKED OVER EVERY MOB SYNDICATE IN THE COUNTY!'

Both men turned to look at Audrey, who was breathing heavily and wringing her hands.

'Well its true you fuckwit!' she shrieked. And with that Conlan collapsed onto the floor.

* * *

Carl Johnson was enjoying a rare lie in. For the past few months, since Tenpenny's death, everything had been chaos. There was a casino, a garage and Grove Street to look after, but for once everything had fallen into place and Carl was kicking back. But then his phone rang. 

'Aww man…leave me alone,' groaned Carl, stuffing his face further into the pillow. It continued to ring, then again and again. Carl fumbled around for his cell, intending to tell whoever it was to fuck off but the name appearing on the phone's screen made Carl frown and then smile.

'Conlan Delaney…now why the hell are _you_ ringing me?'

'It's been a long time Carl'

'Got that right'

'Heard you finally got out of Liberty and ever since have been robbing casinos, killing crooked cops…'

'Cut the chit chat man… I can't be assed with your bull…what d'you want?'

'Remember that time I saved you from being shot in the ass?'

'Aww man….' The words '_I owe you' _seemed so right at the time but when it comes to the eventual payment you always regret it: Conlan had saved him from some deep shit after he had screwed the bosses' daughter back in Liberty.

'My brother has been kidnapped'

'What, Brad?' Carl sniggered 'I knew that dickhead was gonna find himself completely and utterly fucked one day'

'Yeah, yeah we all did, the point is some Mexicans have got him and want a quarter of a million dollars for his release'

'You got tonnes of money, pay the bastards…you know he probably deserved it anyway'

'Look, I already have a hostage situation with a bunch of Thais and my employees: their asking for half a million which I can just about manage….but three quarters of a million? I'll go bust dammit!' Conlan said desperately, clenching his fist as he heard Carl's sniggers down the receiver.

'Fucking hell man. You want me to track down some Mexicans and get your brother back?

'Uh huh'

'In a city where a quarter of its population are fuckin' Chicanos?'

'Yes…'

'Nuh-uh…no fucking way! I'm sorry man, ask some other moron!'

'There is no one else! I've pissed everyone off!'

'Well that's your fault honky boy'.

'Look….my old man topped himself this morning'

'Oh _really_…so were going for the sympathy vote now….' said Carl, painfully sarcastically.

'Turn on the fucking news man, its true!'

Carl rolled his eyes.

'Hang on I'll be right back'

After a few minutes of sweating on Conlan's part Carl returned.

'Man…you're really in the shit,' sniggered Carl.

'Will you do it or not? There's one hundred thousand dollars in it for you'

Carl clicked his tongue for a few, painstaking, seconds.

'Okay man, tell me what you know…'

* * *

'Ryan…pssst…Ryan!' hissed Alex. Ryan had been enjoying a snooze for the last half hour. 

'Ryan…dammit, wake up!'

'Muh?'

'Ryan!'

'What? Awww man Alex, I had almost managed forget about this whole fucking thing' he groaned.

'Look, it's been three hours! That Delaney punk is going to do nada!'

'And what do want me to do about it?'

'Look I've got a plan,' she whispered glancing nervously around her.

'In case you haven't noticed Alex, there's five of them all equipped with a firearm, four of us with a measly pistol between us,' said Ryan.

'Shut up for a second, look you have your cell on your right?'

'Yes'

'Well how about if I ring the garages number, pick up the phone and pretend its Delaney'

'Right…' said Ryan peevishly.

'Tell the Thais that Delaney has the money and he wants to meet them outback to exchange the dough…on one condition…they can only leave one man to guard us'

'Ok…so you shoot the guard and then we runaway on _foot_… oh its foolproof, give the lady a round of applause!'

'God dammit shut your hole... look d'you have the keys to the Feltzer?'

Both of them looked at the car; the Thais were currently playing poker on the bonnet.

'Yes…' muttered Ryan, patting his pockets. 'Fucking hell… anything could go wrong'

'The Thais have obviously done nothing like this before, I mean they haven't tied us up or set someone to watch us…there amateurs, there just looking for the money…it's better than nothing, right?'

Ryan looked at Tics who was murmuring something to himself and tapping the floor with his foot. Then at Eddie who was staring at the ceiling with a gormless' expression.

'Ok….you tell them about it…I'll get my cell ready'

'Good'

Ryan, as casually as he could, slipped a hand into his overalls and felt for his phone, imagined the keypad in his mind and began to press the numbers in. Ryan heard Eddie gulp nervously as Alex outlined the plan. A few seconds later Alex turned to Ryan, they gave a worried glance at the Thais then looked at each other. Alex nodded.

* * *

Conlan didn't know much, apart from they were Mexican. There were no witnesses and the last time Bradigan was seen was stumbling out of a club in East Los Santos with a friend, his whereabouts were unknown, both stinking drunk and completely doped up. So Carl began with the only Mexican he knew. 

'Hey Cesar'

'Carl what's up man?'

'You know anything about a guy called Bradigan Delaney and his kidnapping? Any Mexicans that would wanna' nick a rich businessmen's son?'

'Yeah ese, his face is kissing my shoe'.

'Cesar! What the fuck are you doing with him?!'

'Come to El Corona and I'll explain,' he whispered and hung up.

'Jesus….' muttered Carl, staring at his phone.

He didn't know if this made the whole thing a lot easier or worse. Obviously there was a good reason why Cesar had this guy and Carl may be able to sweet talk him out of releasing him, but then again if it was some random Mexicans he could find them: blow everyone's heads off and then go, which was the more natural, no complications approach that Carl was used to. But this approach was going to need negotiation, bargaining, _talking it over_: one thing that Carl despised.

First, he was going to need a bigger motivation to make this whole thing worthwhile. He flipped his cell phone, pressed a few buttons, and brought it to his ear.

'I found him'

'Shit, that was quick,' said Conlan, a sense of relief in his voice.

'Quick but hard,' said Carl carefully.

Silence. Conlan sighed.

'Ok, I'll make it two hundred thousand,' he said through gritted teeth.

'I knew you'd understand,' said Carl cheerfully.

'Just get the little shit back,' muttered Conlan, hanging up.

'Man that was too easy,' said Carl, chuckling to himself and picking up his car keys.

* * *

R&R!! 


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: As always, many thanks to reviewers and sorry about the wait!**

* * *

The phone rang. All the Thai's looked up, glared at Alex and spat out a command for her to answer it. She slowly got up, turned to the desk and picked it up. 

'Hello?' she said. The rest of the 'conversation' consisted of Alex nodding and humming. She carefully placed the phone down, her expression unreadable, and turned to the Thais who seemed to sense that they were finally going to get their money; their pointed faces full of smugness. As coolly as possible, Alex delivered the speech that she had outlined to Ryan only a few minutes ago. The Thais faces transcended from smiles to frowns then from obstinacy to deep suspicion.

'This isn't going to work,' murmured Ryan, putting his head in his hands.

He heard chattering then the shuffling of feet and looked up. The Thais were reloading their weapons and some were smiling nervously, they appeared to assign the burly one exhibiting the sawn off shot gun on sentry duty. Alex turned to Ryan, raised an eyebrow and smiled.

'You better have a good aim,' muttered Ryan, reaching into his pockets and closing his hands over a pair of keys.

'Let me worry about that,' she replied, following the footsteps of the Thais as they piled out of the back door.

'Who's the best driver here?' said Eddie, his first words in hours. Ryan and Tics looked at Alex even Eddie stubbornly glanced at her.

'Look ladies, if the Thais come after us I'm one with the gun'

'I can do that,' said Ryan. Alex raised an eyebrow and looked at him dubiously.

'If you're sure'

'I'm sure…' said Ryan, last years riots had ensured that. It was now just the five of them. They had to be quick. The guard wouldn't take their eyes off them, so Ryan retorted to playground tactics.

'Look over there!' shouted Ryan, flailing his arms towards the door behind the guards head. The sentry's human instinct made him turn round and Alex drew out the Glock and held it firmly in two hands. She fired. The guard looked back at them only to have a bullet firmly planted in his skull: the shot making an ear splitting bang, that anyone in a 100 metre radius would have heard. Alex and Ryan made a quick exchange of metal and launched themselves into the front two seats of the Feltzer. Tics quickly followed but Eddie had frozen; his eyes staring at the dead Thai.

'Eddie, for fucks sake move your ass!' screamed Alex from out of the window, but Eddie stood still. Ryan could here the shouts of the returning Thais, for a split second he thought of urging Alex to drive but knew that it was an impossible notion. Instead he chucked himself out of the car and grabbed Eddie by the scruff of the neck, pressed the button for the raising of the garage door, and ushered him into the car. The wide grey door rose slowly, the Thais had returned and where trying to work out what was happening. For a few painstaking moments Ryan knew they were dead but the door had risen far enough for them to squeeze through.

'Duck everyone!' yelled Alex, pressing hard on the pedal. Tires screeched as bullets blew out the tail lights. Everyone sunk low: unfortunately the Feltzer was a convertible. They were out of building into the narrow street. Downtown LS wasn't so busy this time of day, but cars still slinked along and were parked on each side of the roads; used by the cheap skate council as a traffic calming device.

'Ryan try and raise the fucking roof of this thing!' shrieked Eddie as a bullet whistled pass. Ryan risked a look back: the Thais were piling into a black ZR-350. He turned back to the various buttons that lined the interior and pressed a small black button with an appropriate looking diagram. The roof began to slowly rise. They all lurched to the side as Alex swung round a corner.

'Ok where the hell am I going?!' hollered Alex, screeching through a red light.

'The nearest P.N.S is….' said Eddie, his face pink from concentration.

'Santa Maria!' squawked Tics. Ryan checked the mirror…no sign of them yet.

They had made it into Conference after seven minutes of intense, pedestrian dodging, heart throbbing driving drama, but the Thais had caught up. Ryan turned the Glock around in his hands and rolled down the window. They were gaining on them, their car gradually becoming level with theirs. Ryan took an aimless shot; the bullet carelessly bouncing off the car's body.

'Ryan, you're going to have to do better than that…they have fucking shotguns!' screamed Eddie. Ryan didn't have time to retort, his heart sinking as one of the tinted windows smoothly lowered revealing the ugly barrel of a revolver.

'Oh fuck, this is so frickin' awesome,' jittered Tics.

Ryan rested his wrist on his arm and aimed for the front tire. This time the bullet hit its target. The car spun out of control and Ryan couldn't help smiling as the Thais' faces contorted into a mess of fury and horror.

'Shot!' jeered Alex, the sea coming into view.

'Fuck, Tics!'

Ryan looked round, Tics had fallen victim to the Thais' anger; his shoulder was playing host to a metal slug. Eddie was uselessly trying to comfort him as Tics was crying in agony as blood poured through the blue material.

'What's going on?' yelled Alex.

'Tics has been hit we need to get the hospital,' said Ryan darkly.

'Shit!' Alex, losing all common sense, looked round at the flailing body.

'Alex! The road!'

'Oh right…' She hit the brakes, finishing in a thunderous U-turn.

'Jefferson right?'

'Alex, you just hit a fucking ped!' bellowed Eddie.

'What? No I didn't!' she replied, nervously glancing at the sidewalk.

'Yeah you did,' gulped Ryan.

'Oh shit I did!'

The man lying on the road would never be roller skating again.

* * *

Carl was staring at the heap on the floor. His hands were tied around his back and he had been blindfolded. The red marks on his wrist indicated that he had attempted to struggle but given up when he realised that it wasn't doing much good. An eye watering mixture of smoke, vomit and booze hung around him and seemed permanently imprinted in his clothes: a ragged pair of jeans and a crass Hawaiian shirt. Cesar walked into the squat room, bearing two bottles of Sprunk. 

'Cesar…what the fuck is going on here?'

Cesar joined him on the couch and lay back.

'Kendle was going out with some friends…this guy right here knocked her around'.

'WHAT?' hollered Carl, getting to his feet.

'I didn't I swear!' squeaked the body.

'Shut the fuck up!' yelled Cesar, throwing his bottle at him. Carl grabbed him by the neck.

'Did you or did you not mess around with my sis!' he spat.

'I..I…I can't remember O.K?

'That's not good enough!' He tightened his grip. 'Cesar, how did you know this anyway?'

'Well, Kendle said that some white guy, in a red shirt came onto her'

'Oh fuck Ces that could have been anyone!' said Carl, loosening his grip and turning to face Cesar, who hadn't considered this anomaly.

'Uhh…'

'And why the hell are you asking for money?'

'Well, he told us his name and I recognised it and thought it couldn't hurt to make a bit of green off it, his dad is one of the richest guys in this town'

'_Was_ one of the richest….he killed himself this morning,' said Carl glaring at Cesar.

'Oh shit…' muttered Cesar looking at the floor.

'What? My Dad killed himself? Fuck!'

It was silent for a few seconds. Cesar was staring at the ceiling and Brad seemed to be dealing with his grief by shaking and cursing.

'Your girl's black right?' said Brad quietly.

'Yeah…'

'Look no offence, but I wouldn't hit on a black chick, however drunk I was'.

Cesar and Carl looked at each other.

'You know we could just ask Kendl to come round and identify him…' said Carl, not choosing to comment on Brad's defence.

'No! She told me not _to do anything stupid_…she'll go crazy,' said Cesar desperately.

'Look, I'll just take Brad back to Conlan…'

'Conlan?'

'Yeah….its his brother, he offered two hundred thousand big ones if I got him back…'

'Oh,' said Cesar simply.

'I'll split it with you, we just need to get this guy off our hands'

'O.K, get the bastard out of here'

'Right…Jesus…'

Carl undid the rope around his hands and ripped off the blindfold. Brad rubbed his eyes, stretched and peered curiously at Carl.

'Carl?'

'Uh-huh'

'Oh Carl…Ol' buddy…you always said I'd be the death of you,' he said jovially, sensing that he was going to live after all.

Cesar raised an eyebrow and looked at Carl questionably.

'You know this bendico?'

'Old _friend_ from Liberty…come on you asshole,' barked Carl. Brad obediently followed him out of the house.

* * *

'You hit someone?' said Conlan disbelievingly. Two mechanics had shown up at HQ claiming they were the hostages from head garage: they had escaped; torn down the streets in a client's Feltzer, chased by the Thai mob. They managed to shake them off but at the cost of one of them being shot, then on the way to the hospital they accidentally hit a civilian down. 

'Yeah, so we were hoping you'd get your lawyers to... y 'know... save our skins,' said the female one.

'Yeah yeah…ok…what were your names again?'

'Ryan Bailey and Alex Loei'

'Great…well Mr Bailey and Miss Loei, your both assets to Delaney Autos,' said Conlan trying to sound proud and welcoming and at the same time attempting to hide his glee from the plain truth that they had just saved him from coughing up half a million dollars. There was an awkward pause.

'So… do we get a reward?' said Alex simply. Conlan was saved from answering the question as the male butted in.

'You might wanna watch your back, as you have some real pissed Thais screaming for your blood,' he said, glaring at his colleague.

'Um…Carl!' cried Conlan happily as Carl walked through the entrance, a cheerful looking Brad following behind.

'Hi…money please,' said Carl automatically, holding out his hand, but Conlan walked over to Brad and punched him round the face.

'Hi Bro…ARGH! What do you do that for?' yowled Brad, stumbling backwards.

'I think you know why you idiot!'

'Oh fuck off Connie,' he mumbled.

'Right that's it!'

The brothers began to engage in some sort of sibling tussle, Brad pulling on Conlan's red tie and Conlan grabbing tufts of Brad's short black hair.

'Hi there baby…' said Carl teasingly, eyeing Alex up and down. Ryan stifled a snort.

'Fuck off honey,' she replied mockingly.

'Oooh your killing me,' said Carl broodingly, miming stabbing himself in the heart. Before Alex could retort, Ryan elbowed her in the ribs.

'Are those the Thais?'

'Ohhh…..fuck,' she sighed.

It was the Thais, but there were more of them. They had pulled up in several black vans in the street outside and were piling out by the dozen. All wearing the exact same thing: black suits and black shades, sporting the same hairdo: short and black and brandishing the same array of deadly apparatus.

'Who the hell are those busters?' said Carl anxiously.

'EVERYBODY GET DOWN!' yelled Ryan as loud as possible. The two brothers froze; both in mid-kick- looked at Ryan then at the Thais and as if in slow motion, both hurled themselves at the floor. Carl didn't give way so easily-he had to be brought down by a kick in the back of leg from Alex. They opened fire: a deadly volley of bullets brought the glass frontier of HQ shattering to floor. They weren't aiming to kill but instead with the sole intent to cause as much havoc and fear as possible. It continued for a good two minutes until, it felt like a lifetime to Ryan, the gunfire ceased. He daringly looked up; black shiny shoes were briskly walking towards him. He felt a hand grab the back of his neck and drag him up onto his knees. Expecting a gun to be pressed against his temple, he closed his eyes and waited for the inevitable, which turned out to be a short, sharp, skull cracking hit across the head with the butt of a gun.

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	4. Chapter 4

**A/N Hey everyone, sorry for delay…life has been taking over recently. But there's no way that this is getting abandoned, it's just a struggle finding the time and energy to write it. Anyway, here it is…quite long and should keep you entertained for a couple of minutes. (Can't wait until the next GTA is out!)**

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Conlan was dreaming. His father was waving at him while standing atop a giant spanner. He was trying to say something...what was it?

'I can't hear you,' said Conlan desperately.

'Wake up,' he whispered.

'What?'

'Wake your fat ass up Conlan,' he appeared to say. Conlan felt a sharp blow to the side to his head and woke up.

'Muh…' he groaned, waiting for his blurry vision to return to normal. He winced as foreign fingers pressed down on a particularly sore spot of his head.

'Damn, he's got the biggest bump out of all us'

'Good, he probably deserved it,' said a female voice.

The frowning face of Carl Johnson came into view. Conlan dragged his body into sitting and looked around. He was in a big black box, it took him a while to realise they were moving; the low hum of an engine filled the space and every now and again there would be a bump or groove in the road which made the vehicle jerk and jolt. A small, dim light bulb swung dangerously from the ceiling. There were four others with him, Carl, the two mechanics and Brad. They were all slumped against the sides and looked equally glum.

'What happened?' he muttered.

'Haha! I win…you honestly didn't think he was gonna say 'Where am I?' man, that's so clichéd,' gibed Brad, 'I do believe that's 10 bucks,' he said happily.

'Whatever moron, we didn't shake on it,' sulked Carl 'and in case you didn't notice I'm a little short of dough at the moment,' he said, clipping Brad in the back of the head. Everyone had been stripped down to their pants and undershirts and all other belongings; wallets, cell phones, had been taken.

'Looks like your Thai pals came back for a little revenge,' said Ryan, in response to Conlan's original question.

'What did you say to them to get 'em so pissed in the first place?' said Brad.

'Uhhh…' Conlan squirmed. 'It doesn't matter now…man…what happened to your clothes?' laughed Conlan. Brad glared at him. The Thais hadn't been so generous to him, only leaving him with a pair of black boxers.

'They stunk so bad, I think they burnt them,' scoffed Carl.

'Shut up,' Brad muttered, hugging his knees. There was a sulky silence: everyone to busy tending to their lumpy souvenirs and chewing over their bitterness. Conlan tried to remember what happened, not much. The Thai's came, relieved some outstanding tension, introduced his cranium to an M16 and dumped him in a van.

'O.K, there's one thing I don't get…' began Conlan.

'Oh for the love of God please tell us!' cried Carl mockingly. Everyone glared at him.

'Anyway…I'm here for obvious reasons and they probably knew Brad was related to me, you two…Alice and Ryan, was it?'

'Alex,' corrected Ryan.

'You two managed to seriously embarrass their asses, but Carl? Why would they want him?'

Carl clicked his tongue and stretched nonchalantly.

'Unlike you pussy's, I wasn't gonna go down without a fight,' he said smugly. Several pairs of eyes rolled in unison.

'What didja do?' said Brad, his eyes almost gleaming in mislaid admiration.

'Please, don't encourage him…' muttered Conlan, massaging his temples.

'Well y'know a well some aimed punches here…a kick to the ass there, easy…textbook'

'Huh, that's funny. I remember last seeing you flat on _your_ ass…' said Alex scathingly. Carl opened his mouth to speak, closed it again and then spoke.

'Well… uhh,' he stuttered, 'obviously you weren't conscious enough to see what happened after!' he said, regaining his holier than thou composure.

'Yeah, whatever… _hua kuai_, you probably screwed a daughter or two,' murmured Alex. Both Carl and Conlan shifted uncomfortably. Alex eyes widened and she smiled.

'I was right…you-' she began, but Carl quickly forced a change of subject.

'Hey, hey that's not the issue here…was that some Thai I heard in your sentence? And who kidnapped us in the first fuckin' place….uhhh I don't know… THAI'S!' hollered Carl, almost hysterically. Alex clenched her fist and gritted her teeth.

'Woah dude, back up! What the hell are you suggesting?' said Ryan, trying to maintain his calm.

'Ohh…I'm sorry did I hear COINCIDENCE?!' shot back Carl.

'Jesus,' groaned Conlan, sinking further to the floor as various profanities and screams were exchanged between the three. So this is what happened when nicotine denied humans were forced into a small box- reduced to screaming, unreasonable assholes. He wasn't surprised; he had lost all faith in people years ago. He reached for his back pocket and patted for his flask but realised in painful apprehension that it was probably on the lips of some greasy foreigner. He sighed. Could that girl be anything to do with this? It was _months_ ago. If it was, he honestly didn't know she was the daughter of some manic Thai. Why did Mafioso's get so uptight if you banged their spawn anyway? The uncanny presence of silence interrupted his thoughts. The low rumbling of the engine had died and the fiery arguments had been extinguished. They had stopped. Everyone shuffled upright and Conlan exchanged worried looks with Ryan- who had managed to retain level-headiness throughout the whole escapade. The lock of the van's door clunked and Carl got up, flexing his fingers and cracking his knuckles, and walked towards the door. The entrance opened slowly, Conlan peered out. The outline of a figure stood against an early evening sky.

'Idiot,' muttered a voice behind him, as Carl's attack was quickly, casually blocked and counteracted with a punch to the nose.

'Arghhhhh,' gargled Carl, stumbling backwards onto the floor, clutching his face as crimson liquid seeped through the cracks of his fingers. The faint light illuminated a bald man, in a black suite and tie with dark shades.

'Mr Delaney?' he said in perfect English, his voice, deep and focussed, echoing in the recesses of the van. Brad whimpered and stood up shakily.

'No, not you, you idiot… me!' hissed Conlan.

'Oh!' he squawked as Conlan thumped him in pure frustration.

'Follow me,' the man said

Ryan watched Conlan as he followed the stranger outside. The door shut with a clank and everything was silent once more.

'Son-of-a-bitch,' spat Carl, lifting his head backwards as the blood continued to drip from his nose into small red blotches on his white tank top.

'You're supposed to tilt your head forward slightly, not back,' said Ryan.

'What?' snapped Carl.

'If you lean your head back, you might swallow some blood and-'

'All right, all right Einstein I get the picture,' he snarled.

'Man, I'm only tryin' to help…Jesus…' muttered Ryan, holding up his hands. A sniff from his right side ushered his attention onto Alex, who held her face in her hands.

'You O.k?' he murmured, nudging her playfully. She looked up at him and glared.

'Ryan…in the past 24 hours I have been held hostage, shot at while driving eighty miles per hour down a one way street, then in quick succession…I mowed over a pedestrian, shot at again, had my head feel like its been spilt open then to top it all off…' she shook a finger dangerously, '… locked in a small square box with four male assholes,' she said, then sighed and slumped dejectedly against the side.

'Well….my name is Bradigan Delaney, and I'm an alcoholic…'

'Oh my God…' growled Carl, punching the side of the van 'Please, let me out you bastards!' he yelled.

'And….My Dad killed himself this morning and my Mom died a few years ago,' continued Brad his voice shaking, '…whilst I was tied up and used as a target for some stupid ass Azteca, rescued only to be kidnapped again and stripped to these,' he pointed to his boxers as if they were some disgusting sacrilege. Alex stifled a laugh and grinned at Ryan.

'Ryan…you have been blessed with the gift of clothing, why don't you lend this here poor orphan with a part of your attire…' she smirked. Ryan glowered at her, then at Brad who sat there miserably, shaking and come to think of it, the guy had probably barely just hit adult hood.

'Oh man…..' said Ryan, pulling off his grey t-shirt and flinging it at Brad where it landed on his head and hung awkwardly off the side of his face.

'You're a real good Samaritan,' said Alex jokingly, patting Ryan's shoulder and grinning.

'Awww, thanks man,' said Brad cheerfully, struggling into the t-shirt which clung tightly against his beer abused belly- he still looked ridiculous.

'Whoa, you guys are bringing tears to my eyes,' snorted Carl. Before anyone could reply the door slinked open and a familiar looking Thai, bearing a Winchester, stood at the entrance, gazing at them fiercely.

'All of you…out!'

Everyone stood up instantly, even Carl obeyed wordlessly, glad that some kind of development was happening; even if it did involve three kilograms of fatal steel pointed their way. They were ushered into the cool early evening air; stars were beginning to twinkle faintly as the last of the light slipped away. The van had stopped in the middle of a dusty beaten track. Ryan's eyes gazed over the rolling green country side still dappled in evening light. He recognized it as somewhere north of Los Santos where the hicks slinked lazily about the streets bragging about their tractors and cops tilted up their fancy cow boy hats at lost looking urbanites.

They were on the edge of a cliff. The sea, which acted as a neat and handy border between Los Santos and Las Venturas, lay stretched out before them, still in the calm air. Three other Thai's were stationed in a line also armed, and their faces expressionless. The guard motioned them to the edge of the cliff. Ryan dared himself to peer over down at the sea, as he was nudged into position: a foot away from the cliff's edge. The sea was still calmly splashing this close to the cliff face, if there were rocks he couldn't see them… How far were they up? 120 feet? They were probably going to die anyway, it was worth a shot. If you were going to shoot someone this would be the place to do it- easy body disposal, far out in the country, where no one would think twice if they heard a gun shot. He glanced at Alex who appeared to be thinking the same thing. She nodded. He turned back to their captors, a black Remington had pulled up on the dusty track. Ryan's stomach lurched in hope that a wayward driver had stumbled upon the show but the windows were tinted and another Thai clone stepped out. He tugged a dishevelled Conlan by the scruff of his white wifebeater and motioned his revolver towards the group. Conlan ambled over, stony-faced and his hands quivering, he shot a puzzled look at the group, all standing stock still in a row at the edge of the cliff. He heard Alex beside him whisper 'jump' out of the corner of her mouth, Conlan just stared dumbly. Another Thai had joined them, ordinarily Ryan wouldn't have noticed as they were all so familiar but this one was wearing a black pinstripe suit, matching vest and a red tie. He was a small man, roughly in his 30's. His hair was cut close and he looked at them pretentiously through menacing shades: there was something unwholesome about wearing sunglasses in the semi-darkness.

He peered sadly down at his black loafers, which were fast attracting a fine layer of brown dust and removed his shades, folding them carefully into an inside pocket. His eyes bored heavily into Ryan's, who held his gaze. The man's lip curled and he whistled sharply. A guard jerked into attention and cautiously handed the man an Uzi, who surveyed it and nodded curtly. Ryan heard gulps, and then realized it was himself almost choking in cold drenching fear. The man held it in two hands and pointed it at them, his mouth curving into a venomous smile, his gleaming eyes flashing the phrase 'tough luck'. '_I guess this is it…_' thought Ryan, well he'd rather die of a short slap into a cold ocean than at the gun point of some short ass mute Thai. Stupidly shouting 'NOW!' to the rest would only alert the Thais, doing it silently would give them a one second head start, he just hoped the others would have the brains, courage and dumb luck to jump in after him. _120 feet? Nothing_. That was Ryan's last thought as he launched himself sideways off the cliff edge, The wind screamed past, and gunshots flew over head as his body whooshed through the air. He straightened himself as best he could which was almost impossible with the wind buffeting his flailing limbs. He closed his eyes and held his breath as the water sped closer. He just hoped it was goddamn deep…

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End file.
